What Makes A Hero
by haveyouseenmyhaggis
Summary: "…How much do you have to do, Tasha? To be a hero?" It's something they both wonder. How many lives does a person need to save to become a hero? When does one stop becoming the bad guy?


They wonder where they draw the line between a fighter and a hero. Where does one become a hero? How many lives does a person need to save to become a hero? When does one stop becoming the bad guy? When do they get to don the title of 'hero'. And does this make that person unanimously worthwhile in the eyes of the world?

When does a person who is so very reluctant to share their real name see it in lights before them? When does an agent become someone more than that? When do they become a person and not just a name in a countless, endless sea of ranks and IDs…?

It's thoughts like this that fly between Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff in the late, long nights when they're out on the field together. They're thoughts that are not often said out loud, however. Neither of them dare. Who wants to admit they want to be a hero? Doesn't that sound too self-centred? That isn't, after all, why they're in this. At least, not entirely.

After all, rather be called a hero than a villain. And to be a hero, you've got to be more than just another agent, don't you?

Is that heroism though? To be more than an agent?

That's what Clint asks one night as they sit together looking out over yet another street lit city that looks so different yet so astoundingly similar to the last skyline they sat together watching over. "…How much do you have to do, Tasha? To be a hero?"

Natasha frowns, glancing at him in the dim light. She takes a moment to think over the question he's just thrown into the night before quietly offering her answer along with a gentle hand to hold. "Until you've righted all that you've done wrong, I guess…"

The archer mirrors her expression then, biting his bottom lip thoughtfully. His sharp eyes flick back to the city moments later though as he surveys their surroundings. He takes in every street light, every car, every window that's still casting a glow out in to the night. "But how do you know when that is?" he wants to know, his voice little more than a whisper.

"I'm not sure you do," Natasha admits, slipping her fingers easily between his. She doesn't look away from him though and she notices just as much as he does - but what she notices is different. She notices how the light falls on his face, how quickly his eyes move from object to object and most of all, she can tell he's upset. She, perhaps, is the only one whom could ever do so. "…Don't, Clint, just don't…"

But the thoughts are already so deep in his mind that it's too late to drop them now. He sighs, his hand tightening just a little around hers. His calloused fingers close around hers easily as they have so many times before. This gesture is more home than anything else ever has been to either of them. He falls quiet for a long while then, just being with her in silence.

"What does being a hero mean to you, Clint?" she asks eventually, her voice soft and quiet but the sound still makes the archer start a little, dragged out of his own thoughts.

Clint hesitates then, a little caught off guard by the question. His brow creases as he thinks it over, glancing down at their interlocked hands on the cold wall between them as thought fascinated. "…I'm…"

"Just tell me," she urges, her thumb brushing quickly over his knuckles in a small reassuring gesture just to let him know she's there, she's listening. There's no judgement between them. There never is. In her eyes, they both have their sins - they are one and the same. Neither of them are innocents here.

"In a way, I guess, it's to be loved, isn't it?" he explains slowly and carefully. He can't quite meet her gaze though while he speaks, his attention fixed on the moon now, watching the clouds trail lazily before it, obscuring it from view for the moment.

"To be loved?" Natasha prompts, admittedly a little puzzled.

"Mm. If you've made that difference to someone, y'know?" he tells her almost nervously. "If you've saved a life… Meant someone could keep on living and they love you for it…? But they love you for what you do and what you stand for. What you stood for in saving them or … or something they cared about? Isn't that being a hero?"

"So what makes you think you aren't one?" she wants to know, tilting her head a little. "Does someone have to say it?"

Clint doesn't answer that. He isn't entirely sure how to answer that. He sighs and it's then that she shifts a little closer, moving her free hand to cup his face and make him look at her. "You _are_ a hero, Clint," she tells him softly when he's forced to meet her gaze. "I promise you."

"B-."

"No questions this time, Barton," she chides, a small and familiar smirk tugging at her lips as she leans a little closer, their faces mere milimetres apart.

He can feel every word she utters sending a warm breath over his lips and he can't help but smile and lean in a little nearer too. "Then explain."

"Clint-."

"That wasn't a question, it was an instruction," the archer points out without missing a beat, squeezing her hand tighter in his.

Natasha finds her cheeks flushing a little then because he's got her there. She's glad for a moment that it is dark but she's almost certain he knows anyway. Clint never misses little details. She raises an eyebrow at him, laughing just slightly. "At least, if you weren't already a hero to so many people before… before you decided not to kill me? You became one to me right then."

Clint shakes his head at that, turning his attention out to the city again. "No, that doesn't-."

"Yes, it does count, Clint," she tells him sharply. "You spared my life and offered me a chance of something better. To me at least, you're a hero."

And there it is.

That's when Clint knows to draw the line between a fighter and a hero by his own standards. A hero is someone who is loved… Neither of them say that word to each other. Love… They find ways around it. Ways to show the other they mean it, that they feel it. But no, they'll never say it. Today is no exception.

But they, to each other, are heroes.


End file.
